May 15, 2181
Video Log: PFC. Frost, Dean Security Clearance: Grey
Mission Time: 04:30:43 Local Time: 10:58:12
Frost watched in apprehension as the surviving colonists and peacekeepers armed with the remaining pulse rifles piled into a pair of converted buses. There were quite a few slots to allow the occupants to fire at targets outside, and on the roof they had managed to bolt down a UAG-290 Sentry Turret. Pretty damned good for an improvised APC. Bandito's fireteam piled into the rear APC, while he, Thor, Rushmore and the El-tee got into the one in front with the Marines.
Frost, for his role in the car, was the guy who made sure that the sentry gun on the roof didn't overheat, and was full of ammo at all times. So when the door opened, the young soldier immediately turned on the sentry, and prayed that this trip went well. No sooner had the first car gone fifty meters that the first wave of runners came in. As they appeared, the sentries atop the buses roared, sending high explosive ammo downrange to wipe out the infestation. Frost barely listened to the chatter as he watched the screen for his turret, keeping an eye on the heat and ammo counters.
Ratototototototototoom.
Barrel temperature up five degrees, ammo down by forty rounds. Another long burst. Barrel at 276 degrees, ammo at 560. Frost watched as the runners started falling back, paving the way for the warriors. Several long bursts later, and the barrel was borderline overheating. "Overheat!" Frost shouted, engaging the manual coolant flush for the barrel. As soon as he said that, Dutch, Charlie, the El-tee, and Eagle were firing with everything they had to provide Frost with time for the barrel to cool down. Ten seconds later, the barrel had cooled enough to resume its bug killing duty.
"Shit, crusher!" Dutch yelled. Frost looked out and saw the distinctive crest of that particular xeno, and brought the crosshairs of the turret to bear on it.
On VF-132, it took one UAG-280 series of turret nine rounds of armor piercing, medium explosive ammo to puncture its skull. It would take a single 290 about eight to do the same job. With four trained on it, the bastard was dead before it could even get close. As they drove off, Frost wasn't even sure that there was anything left of the crusher when it hit the ground.
They soon cleared the boundaries of the colony and were now in the open plains that stretched for about twenty klicks to where they were heading. For about ten minutes, nothing came out to attack them. No runners, no warriors, and thank God that they hadn't seen another Ravager. Suddenly, as a young girl was about to drop a chunk of what was supposedly standard issue Marine cornbread, a runner jumped out of the ground and snatched it out of her hand. The APC stopped as they all watched the alien convulse and gag at what was in its mouth. Everyone looked at each other, Allen included, with a what-the-fuck? face as the runner slowly foamed at the mouth and stopped moving, its leg twitching twice before going still.
"So that's what cornbread does," Dr. Freeman said softly, shattering the stupefied silence. Up near the front, Eagle handed Kestrel a twenty. The convoy soon started moving again.
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They were now in a somewhat forested area, and now, everyone was peering out of the firing slots. Frost had checked the ammo, and saw that the double drum magazine was about half full. He looked back into the screen, waiting for the little fuckers to show themselves. Suddenly, the rear APC exploded into action.
"Contact contact, we have boilers! Shit, keep em off our asses!" Bandito yelled over the radio as their roof-mounted gun went off with a vengeance. Frost paled. He had only heard of boilers, but supposedly, they were suicide bombers. One up close and personal and you were gone, simple as that. Frost watched as his gun went off, nailing boilers before they could get too close.
APC Three was firing away full blast when something hit the sentry gun. In seconds, the gun started dissolving, leading to the panicked reports of spitters in the area. Runners were known for their ability to spit acid, but they did it at close range. A spitter, on the other hand, was essentially a xeno sniper, and the sentry on APC Two was soon the next target. Frost manually overrode his turret and searched for the offending bastard creatures. There, in the treetops! Frost hit the trigger, and rounds eight point six five millimeters in diameter tore the spitters to shreds. But the damage was already done.
A boiler managed to get in front of APC Three, and detonated, for lack of a better term. The caustic fluids and accompanying innards liberally covered the front of the bus, and the vehicle rapidly lost speed. Not to mention the entire front end, plus terrified driver, melted away. APC Four, with Bandito, pulled up next to Three and opened the door so that survivors could quickly get on. About ten managed to get on before the bugs started swarming into the ruined APC. One of the ruined survivors shut the door to APC Four from the outside and shouted for them to go. As soon as Four pulled away, shaking off a few stray bugs, the lost APC exploded in a small nuclear inferno, wiping out everything within a twenty meter radius.
The convoy had no choice but to keep on moving, no time to mourn the fallen. Wave after wave of spitters, boilers, and warriors came to challenge the survivors, and it was mostly due to the efforts of the sentry guns and Dutch's newfound DMR that they even got close to the outpost.
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It could smell the prey coming. Closer and closer to its den, the beast stirred. If it had lips, or a tongue for that matter, it would have licked its chops in anticipation. It could smell the fear, the blood, and the taint of the hard-prey.
Perhaps now, it would receive a more fitting meal.
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May 15, 2181
Video Log: Cpl. van Hold, Nathan Security Clearance: Blue
Mission Time: 05:08:12 Local Time: 11:31:02
Dutch looked outside of the APC as they rolled up to the outpost. It was abandoned, and oddly enough, despite what he had heard from Allen about this being the start of the outbreak, didn't see any damage that matched with a xeno, not even a Ravager. The APCs drove around to the back of the building where the airpad was, and Dutch saw a door open near the side. Turning to Tanner, Dutch asked, "Sir, permission to take Frost in and get our intel?"
Tanner nodded. "Granted. Be quick though; don't know how much this place crawls."
Dutch nodded and tapped the soldier on the shoulder and jerked a thumb to the building. Frost nodded, and when the APC stopped, the two of them hopped off and sprinted inside. The two soldiers quickly made their way to the admin area, where the info had to be, and quickly got into the main memory core. Taking out a datapad, Frost plugged it in and started the download.
"How long?" Dutch asked as he eyed his motion tracker.
"Five minutes at least," Frost said. "No more than ten, I can assure you. Why?"
"Cause we have contacts, and they ain't us!" Dutch cried out as a long, drawn out howl echoed through the halls. Dutch armed his pulse rifle and aimed at the ceiling as Frost set his pad down and drew his own rifle. Seconds later, their enemies appeared. Only, they weren't exactly xenos. It was almost like someone had taken a xeno and human, and tried melting them together. It was horrifying, yet both Frost and Dutch fired into them, ending their lives with as much as they now needed.
And, judging by the radio chatter, the aberrations were attacking what was left of the convoy too. A few peacekeepers were lost, a civilian or two, and one soldier, Bandito, was simply swarmed over as the monsters advanced, but the survivors were slowly making their way to the dropship. Dutch and Frost must have lost track of time, because Frost turned around and saw that the data download was complete. "Sir," he cried out. "We are leaving!" Dutch couldn't agree more. The two of them rushed out to the courtyard where the Marines and soldiers were holding off the horde, the civilians climbing into the Navaho.
Dutch and Frost added their full metal jacketed wrath into the hailstorm of fire, and thirty seconds later, the horde retreated. They all looked at each in surprise before the ground in front of them exploded, a giant…thing, coming out of the ground. Dutch knew that whatever the hell it was, it wasn't natural. Ravagers weren't that big, and he knew that for a fact. This thing, this thing had to have engineered. And quicker than his eyes could register, it had already killed several Marines. The hailstorm of fire resumed, this time concentrated on its limbs.
It shrugged off the pain, and kept on fighting, bringing the total soldier count down to five: Kestrel, Frost, Thor, Malloy, and Rushmore. The rogue slammed its fist into the ground, and sent Charlie flying. She landed in a heap, and Kestrel rushed to her side. He picked her up, and proceeded to push her away when the monster's tail went through his chest.
For years afterward, Dutch would recount with awe and terror as the beast lifted Kestrel to eye view. Dutch had no idea how Kestrel managed to grab Charlie's Big Fucking Gun, much less hang onto it, but as the monster stared at him, the Marine Corporal would always remember what happened next.
Kestrel's look of raw defiance as yelled out, "Say blarg, you cockbiting fucktard!"
The monster's roar of challenge.
And then the giant ass snot colored energy ball of epic badassness plowing through its head, neck, and upper shoulders with a load, VWA-BOOOOM!
Kestrel landed on the ground hard, in pain. Groaning, he took out his plasma rifle and fired a few shots into the tail, the bolts sealing the wound so that the acid wouldn't cause problems. Looking up at the stunned troopers, he yelled out, "Well, don't just stand there, pick me up and let's get the fuck out of here!"
Snapped out of their stupor, Charlie and Dutch went over and grabbed Kestral by the armpits, hauling him up even as he continued to hold the BFG and his plasma rifle. The troops made it into the ship as the horde of abominations came back out, and with Charlie flying, they soon blasted off just as the horde reached the door.
As they rode up into orbit, Dutch, Frost, hell, practically everyone who had served with Kestrel looked at him in shock. "Sir," Frost said. "When were you going to tell us?"
"Huh?" Kestrel asked. Frost pointed to his chest, now staining his shirt white. Kestrel looked down and saw the stain. "Oh. That. Umm, how do I put this, um-"
"You're a synthetic?" Bron asked in shock. It was a question in everyone's heads.
Kestrel shrugged. "Not in the usual sense."